Reassignment
by The Old Bastard
Summary: Death is an inescapable fact of life.
1. No Rest

**First Rick and Morty fanfic, brah. Please don't forget to favorite, follow, and review. Your support is what keeps me writing!**

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 **Chapter I**

 **~ No Rest ~**

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"Morty J-27."

He didn't look up.

"Morty J-27."

He looked up. Rick stood in front of him, working with the data-pad on his wrist.

No, not Rick. Not his Rick.

"Follo-ooUGH-w me. Don't touch anything."

Morty complied without a word, hands shaking as he followed Not-Rick across the waiting room.

"So, you lo-ooHS-st your Rick, eh?" his pseudo-grandfather said offhandedly, typing something on his data-pad. Morty doubted he would actually pay attention if he answered. "That really blo-blows. Usually it's the other way around."

Morty didn't respond.

"Wha-aaUGH-tever. We got countermeasures for it, so we'll get you back to hiding a Rick in no time."

He pushed open the door to a small, vacant chamber. If the off-white walls seemed to be closing in on him, Morty didn't say anything. A large, boxy device had been erected in the very center of the room; a small, blank screen hovered above it.

"Just go stick your finger in the open slot. The machine will do the rest."

Morty did was he was told. The process only took a couple of seconds, but Not-Rick whistled in the background.

"Jee-eeEE-z, aren't you just the pickiest Morty in the universe? Let's see who you got, kid."

The screen above was no longer blank, shuffling through images of Rick's faster than Morty could keep track of. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was happening; the machine was looking through all the Morty-less Ricks, searching for the one that could best utilize him.

Reassignment. Like he meant nothing. Like the time with his own Rick had meant nothing.

After a few moments, the shuffling slowed. Morty watched as the final image was pulled up, depicting a particularly disheveled looking Rick. His lab coat was stained and slightly singed around the cuffs. It look as though he hadn't shaved in a long while. His expression was blank, eyes deadened by time. At the very top of the screen, his name had been listed.

Rick A-58.

"You got an A? We-eER-ird. Morty's usually get paired in the same cluster. Doesn't really matter; b-better if we don't waste any time."

Not-Rick pressed a few buttons on his data-pad. Almost instantly, a green portal popped up on the back wall. Morty wasn't really surprised; portal guns weren't needed inside the Citadel, they were already hidden behind every corner.

"A-aaUHL-lright Morty, there's your ticket home. I got some business I gotta deal with, so you'll have to introduce yourself to A-58 without me; try not to get yourself killed. Or do, whatever."

Morty almost spoke up at that, but held his tongue. It didn't matter anyway. He'd learned long ago that you couldn't argue with a Rick, no matter what. It wouldn't work.

It never worked.

Morty stepped through the portal, exiting on the steps of a house identical to his own. The portal closed behind him without a sound, leaving him alone in the frigid night air.

It must've been winter in this dimension, because the ground was covered in the thick blanket of snow. Morty didn't care; it was better than being on the Citadel of Ricks again. Anything was better than being reminded that most of them didn't give a fuck about thier Morty.

Not when his had been so unlike them.

It didn't matter now.

With almost robotic-like movements, Morty grabbed the key that Jerry always kept 'hidden' under the mat. He slammed the door as he entered, not even bothering to keep quiet. If they woke up, so what? The Morty in this universe had probably been dead for a long time, and no amount subtly was going to ease these people into knowing thier 'son' was back.

Surprisingly, no one came rushing down the stairs. No Jerry screaming like a little girl. No Beth yelling for him to shut up. Even Summer, who could be awoken if nothing more than a pin dropped, didn't seem to notice.

Morty just shrugged, figuring nobody was home. Maybe this family got to go on vacations? There was bound to be at least one universe where Jerry wasn't a complete deadbeat.

Morty, his movements still stiff, started making his way to the garage. If Rick was still in the house, he'd probably be there. Despite his reluctance, it was better to just get this over with. If he was lucky, maybe he wouldn't even be wanted.

He didn't even get ten feet before he heard the charging of a laser rifle behind him. He stopped dead in his tracks.

"Tu-uuURR-n around slowly. Don't make any su-sudden moves, or I'll blow your f-fucking brains out."

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 **The tears are gonna flow, people. Make sure to grab a tissue.**

 **Expect all of these chapters to be short; trust me, it's better that way. You'll get content faster, and it's less likely I'll be a hobo about updating.**

 **Anyways, see you all soon,**

 **~ The Old Bastard**


	2. Denial

**Second chapter, brah! Don't forget to favorite, follow, and review; it's your support that keeps me writing!**

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 **Chapter II**

 **~ Denial ~**

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"D-didn't you hear me? Turn around, motherfu-uuUGH-cker!"

Morty slowly rotated, trying his best not to fidget. He was sure the old man could hear his heavily beating heart.

"S-s-step into the light. Slowly."

He did as he was told.

A sharp, barely audible intake of breath echoed around the room. Morty kept his eyes resolutely fixed on the carpet, not wanting to look at this version of his grandfather. Not wanting to see whatever those eyes held. Love, or loathing? Happiness, or misery?

It didn't matter, not really. This wasn't his Rick; he had to keep reminding himself that this wasn't his Rick.

"Morty."

When Rick spoke, his voice came out... pained. Hoarse. As if his throat had suddenly become dry and constricted.

"H-hey, Rick."

His words died in the air around him, leaving the two in a silence that stretched for miles. Morty forced himself to look up. He needed to know what was going on.

Rick stood there, gun limply hanging at his side. He looked ever more haggard here than he did in the photo: hair long and unkempt, greenish spittle staining the front of his beard. His lab coat was torn, burnt, and smudged in so many places that Morty had trouble believe it was once an actual piece of clothing. A deep scar ran all the way down the left side of his face.

But his expression was what really struck Morty: blank and lifeless, devoid of light. Replaced with coal.

"You're not real..." Rick muttered, reaching inside his coat and pulling out his flask with shaking hands. He unscrewed the top and drank deeply.

"W-what? What do you mean I'm not rea- hey, w-w-wait!"

Rick turned on his heel and left the foyer, dropping the gun and muttering something incoherent on his way out. Morty follow just behind him.

"Jee-ez Rick, what's wrong with you? Yo-you're talking crazy!"

"Not real, Rick, he's not real, just ignore him..." was the only answer he got in response. The two of them entered the kitchen. Morty watched as Rick walked to the refrigerator and started digging around.

"Rick, co-come on, an-answer me! I- I don't know what's going on!"

This time he didn't even get a real response, just some more incomprehensible mumbling. Rick pulled out of the fridge, holding some kind of oddly twisted bottle. As he sat down at the table, Morty took up the seat across from him.

"Ri-Rick, I got nowhere else to go! At least talk to me!"

Rick poured the liquid into his flash and drank, stare fixed downward. Almost instantly, Morty noticed how Rick's eyes began to droop. The flask fell as his hands went limp.

"What the- hey, hey Rick, wait! Don't walk away from this, you asshole!"

Morty grabbed Rick by the shoulders as he began to slump forward, stopping his head from smacking against the table. It was no use - Morty could tell that he was nearly gone.

"M'sorry Morty..."

Silence.

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 **All the cliffhangers in all the world, am I right? Not to worry, I'll make sure to keep updating this every couple of days or so. You'll all get your answers, I promise.**

 **Also, thank you for all the support I got on the first chapter; it's been such a short amount of time, and I'm totally honored that you guys actually like my shit enough to even read it.**

 **Now that we have that out of the way, allow me to crush some dreams.**

 **Let me just clarify: no romance, past or present, will ever occur between Rick and Morty in any of my work. Ever. Under any circumstances. You can hold a gun to my head for all I care, I'm not doing it.**

 **Anyway, hope you all enjoyed. Cheers!**

 **~ The Old Bastard**


	3. Old Habits

**Third chapter, brah! Don't forget to favorite, follow and review if you like where this is going! It's you guys and your support that keeps me writing!**

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 **Chapter III**

 **~ Old Habits ~**

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Sharp spikes of pain jolted up the base of Rick's spine, his eyes refusing to open and take in the incoming sunlight. It must've been a couple of hours since he drank that Fleeb Juice extract; the last thing he could remember was having another hallucination.

It was Morty this time.

Watching Morty was always the hardest, a cold reminder... and this one had seemed so vivid. It took all of his willpower to remind himself that it wasn't real, that Morty wasn't coming back. Not his Morty.

Sometimes, he wished he didn't have that willpower.

He managed to prop himself up, eyes still closed as the pain throbbed through his skull. He didn't remember making his way to the couch, but the Fleeb Juice sometimes gave him momentary blackouts; probably just made his way over there before he'd passed out.

He pushed the throbbing down, forced himself to stretch out. That was all he did now: force. Forcing himself to get up in the morning, forcing himself to occupy his time with meaningless work, forcing himself to eat and sleep...

Forcing himself to live.

Now he was forcing himself to forget about what happened, as he did so very often. He opened his eyes, ready to die a little for another day.

 _Morty._

Slouched over in a chair, mouth agape with a line of drool dribbling down the side, was Morty. He sat right in front of Rick, asleep.

Rick could feel his heart start to beat faster, his pace of his breath quickening. It hadn't worked, which was impossible; Fleeb Juice was far too powerful for that. It's lingering effects should've prevented any hallucinations for at least for the next few days, but if Morty was here...

He was real.

Rick patted himself down for his flask, now visibly shaking. He needed a drink, a strong drink right then and there, but woefully realized that he'd dropped it back in the kitchen; his legs wouldn't work to go retrieve it.

He knew that he was hyperventilating now; he could feel his lungs stretch in and out erratically, and his heart beating widely in his chest. He had to calm down, he knew he had to calm down, but it was so damn hard with _Morty_ sitting right across from him.

He didn't have a choice; Rick was sure that this panic attack would only get worse and worse if he let it go on, and then what would he do? Putting a hand to his chest, he forced himself to take calmer breaths and think about this rationally. ' _That's what I do, isn't it?_ ,' he bitterly thought. ' _Always thinking rationally.'_

It wasn't hard to figure out that the Council of Ricks must've sent this Morty as a replacement; he intentionally asked them to keep out of his god-damn business, _especially_ with this, but those pricks were never far away. Bunch of cowardice, bureaucratic assholes.

What really stumped him was this Morty... why was he assigned to him? He knew quite a built about the functions of the Council, enough to know that Morty's were assigned based on compatibility. It made him... curious, for the first time in a long time. But he also knew enough to know that this would end poorly; it always did.

Though he was still shaking, the panic attack finally ceased, leaving Rick mobile enough to slump over and cradle his head with the palms of his wrinkled hands. What was he going to do?

"R-Rick?"

He looked up; Morty was awake now, bleary eyed and barely lucid. The glazed-over stare he was giving Rick was enough for him to know that Morty hadn't gotten very much sleep the night before. He'd stayed up, looking after him...

"O-on man, Rick, I had th-the worse dream, you know? Like, you d-died and I...

As more lucidity returned, Morty gradually went silent. Bleariness gave way to disappointment, and a sadness in his expression that Rick knew a Morty shouldn't have. Eventually, after a few moments of tense silence, Morty glanced downward. He looked so defeated...

"Right... s-sorry."

Rick still didn't say anything, just stared at him as emotions of pity and sympathy passed through his mind. His face remained as blank as a block of granite.

"So-sorry for dragging you over here, Rick. You-ou passed out and I di-din't know what to do..."

"Pfft. Why am I not surprised?"

Morty visibly flinched when he heard that, and Rick had to stop himself from wincing. Everything was blurring now, and the confusion of it all was causing him to fall back on old habits.

"Ge-ez, you don't have to be such a d-dick about it..." Morty said quietly, twiddling his thumbs.

"Yeah, and don't have to be such a little shit about it, _Morty._ Now what the fuck are you doing in my dimension?"

"M-m-my R-Rick, uh, died... the Council re-reassigned me to y-y-you." His stutter was more present than ever, Rick noticed, almost looking ready to cave in. Rick mentally slapped himself; just like with everything else, he'd have to force himself not to fuck this up. He couldn't let himself be dragged into the familiarity of this situation.

"Whatever. Your room is upstairs; don't break anything or bug me."

Turns out some habits were harder to break than others, even for him.

Without another word, Rick forced himself up, barely keeping the bile back as he walked towards the garage. He convinced himself that somewhere, deep down, this was the right decision; he wouldn't interfere this time, wouldn't fuck things up by getting involved in Morty's life. And if that meant he had to be a dick to him, even if it meant having to endure the shards of glass in his stomach... it would be for the best.

It was all a lie.

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 **And we slowly descend further down the rabbit hole...**

 **Hope you all enjoyed.**

 **~ The Old Bastard**


	4. Fed Up

**Fourth chapter, brah! If you're enjoying the story thus far, don't forget to follow, favorite, and review! It's your support that keeps me writing!**

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 **Chapter IV**

 **~ Fed Up ~**

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Rick didn't know Morty had stuck around until the following day.

He stumbled out of the garage, still hungover after a long night of drowning his problems in various mixtures of drugs and alcohol. He'd overdone it, which was really saying something, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Not after what happened.

It was hell getting himself down the hallway and to the kitchen, fighting off the vertigo and trying to keep down the vomit, but he still somehow managed it without passing out. At first, he didn't even notice Morty sitting at the table, playing around with a few cooked eggs that Rick would later swear weren't in the house yesterday, and the boy didn't seem keen on informing him of his presence. By the time Rick was aware enough to see that his psuedo-grandson hadn't run off, he'd already fixed himself a cup of coffee, a bowl of cereal, and sat down at the table.

Once again, he had to keep measured control of his facial features to keep from giving away his surprise. The fact he was having to do that at all was gut-wrenching in it of itself.

"So," he began, taking a sip of his beverage, "you're still here."

Morty didn't respond, just kept staring at his breakfast. Rick wasn't sure if he was doing it out of spite, or just deep in thought.

"Whatever, Morty. If you wanna be a little pouty bi-iiIIIT-tch, then be my guest."

He could've sworn he heard Morty mutter something under his breath there, and he certainly hadn't imagined the scowl that had just flickered across his face, but he hardly thought it mattered. If Morty hated him, what did he care?

It'd be better that way.

Abruptly, Morty got up from the table, abandoning his breakfast as he made his way towards the living room. _'Probably going off to sulk,'_ Rick thought bitterly, less out of annoyance for the action than for the way he identified with it. Running from his problems was always what he'd been good at.

It made him angry.

"Where the hell are you going?"

 _"Away from you, asshole!"_

Though Morty couldn't have seen it, Rick flinched hard enough that it looked as though he'd just been punched. It certainly felt that way. No matter what he told himself, no matter how many times he reminded himself that this was all for the best... it still hurt. Hurt more than he'd ever admit.

Rick still didn't go after him; he expected to hear the front door slam, or for Morty to begin trudging up to his room, but after Morty's footsteps faded and a few moments of silence passed, he began to wonder. He would've heard his grandson moving up the stairs, and he had an alarm wired into his head that told him when the front door was being opened by anyone other than himself.

Though he was still feeling weary and sick, his curiosity got the better of him. Hesitantly, he pushed himself up from the table and began to follow the same path Morty had taken. If he hadn't gone upstairs and hadn't left the house, he only had one other place to hide. Rick knew it well.

It was the same place he went.

Gingerly, he pushed open the door to the garage. Morty sat at his own desk, furiously tinkering with one of his spare portal guns. Rick knew exactly what he was doing, his eyes widening in surprise. How the fuck did he even know about the biometric scanners?

"Morty..." he said, opening the door just enough to slide his lithe frame inside. "What are you doing?"

"L-Leaving," Morty spat angrily.

"Oh, re-eeAAA-ally? And where do you think you're gonna go, _Morty?_ The Council of Ricks? You think those assholes give a fuck about you? You don't even know anyone in this universe."

"I-I don't c-care! An-nywere is better than h-here!"

Rick just rolled his eyes as Morty finished with his tinkering, practically throwing his diamondium (or was it diamondillium? Fucking Hubert and his stupid names...) laserdriver against the wall.

"Do you even know how many enemies I have, how many people would love to get their hands on someone like _you_ just to get to _me?_ If you think you're ready to stand up to that, then you're even more of an idiot than I thought."

"I-I've gone up against the Federation before, Rick! I-I'm not s-scared!"

"You think that's a-all that's out the-eeEER-re? That they're the biggest threat? Go-oooOOO-d, it figure I'd get stuck with the retar-"

 _"Shut up!"_

Rick stopped speaking, stunned into silence by the sudden outburst, even more so that Morty's finger had somehow found its way to the self-destruct switch on his portal gun. His own Morty would've never... but this wasn't his Morty. This would never be _his_ Morty.

But he so desperately wanted him to be.

"Morty- Morty, just calm down and think about this rationally-"

" _No!_ I'm done thinking rationally; I'm done with you! I-I'm leaving, Rick, and there's nothing you can do to stop me!"

"Where the fuck are you even gonna to go? You don't even k-know what you're doing!"

"I- I have one place. I just hope you didn't fuck him up too. Goodbye, Rick." He aimed the portal gun at the wall behind him, firing a green vortex that could've led to only one place. It was a simple matter of deduction - a matter of fucking _statistics._

And something inside Rick broke.

 _'No, no, no, not again, not again; can't let him leave, don't let him leave, he can't see-'_

"Morty, no, wait, don't lea-!" he started, obviously panicked, reaching out to grab his grandson before he could go. He wanted to pull him into a hug and tell him that he was sorry, that he was so sorry for everything he did... but it was too late.

By the time Rick reached where Morty had been, the boy had already stepped through the portal and closed it behind him.

He was gone.

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 **So long, and thanks for all the fish.**

 **Hope you all enjoyed,**

 **~ The Old Bastard**


	5. Heart of Darkness

**Fifth chapter, brah! This arc gets pretty serious, so prepare yourselves for some hella feels. Remember to follow, favorite, and review if you like what I'm doing - it's your support that keep my lazy ass writing!**

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 **Chapter V**

 **~ Heart of Darkness ~**

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Morty had forgotten just how dense the jungle was.

He'd only been on this planet twice before, and was quickly discovering just how easy it was to become lost in the thick foliage. He supposed that made sense - the dominant species of this planet had evolved for aviation, not ground travel - but it didn't make the eerie shadows and strange noises any less gut-wrenching.

Despite all that, he was glad to be gone.

Morty wasn't even sure why he stayed the night; some lingering sympathy for Rick, or maybe even the naive notion that maybe this one would be different? If that was the case, he should've know better; his luck could only have run so far.

It wasn't like his own Rick hadn't ever been mean or abrasive at times - Morty had long lost track of how many times he'd been called a dumbass - but that hadn't stopped him from _caring._ He never just disregarded Morty as nothing more than an invalid; didn't use him only as some kind of cloak.

Hardly mattered now; caring had gotten him killed. If a Rick couldn't care about a Morty without killing himself, better off if he didn't have one in the first place.

At least if he went here, he might get a semblance of what he had. Or, at the very least, a few answers and a place to stay.

Birdperson always had been a good friend.

He didn't know this version, but Birdperson had always been someone you could put your trust in, no matter what dimension you were in. He'd talked with enough Morty's to at least know that much... not that he'd often got an opportunity to do so. More importantly, Birdperson always seems to be a good friend of Rick in every timeline; perhaps this version could shed some light on whatever happened to A-58.

Despite himself, he had always been curious. It was something his Rick had liked about him.

Hours past him by, and the sun soon set into an early twilight. Morty was thirsty from his journey, exhausted. He knew he'd come out somewhere close to the wooden domicile of his friend - he had a rough idea of its coordinates - but was contemplating more and more the idea that he'd have to make camp for the night.

He was surprised Birdperson hadn't found him yet. He still remembered how the (man?) would usually spend his days - at least, days he wasn't inventing - patrolling the area around his home for any possible threats. Both times he and Rick had come here in his own dimension, they'd never have to walk for long.

Once again, he wondered what was different about this version? So questions clouded his mind.

Eventually, the sun went down completely and he had to stop himself. He'd learned enough to know never to try moving through a potentially hostile planet at night - he still had the scar from the last time he attempted something so stupid.

A small, damp cave with fuzzy green moss layered on its sides became his home for the night. It didn't take long to start a fire, not the with the micro laser built into the portal gun - it was surprisingly handy as an extensive multi-tool if you knew the right functions. He huddled by it, shivering as day became dusk and the cool air began to turn frigid.

He regretted not bringing a coat.

Sure, he could've just portaled somewhere and gotten one, but he didn't want Rick locking onto his signal, which was no doubt tracking even now. Morty didn't know why; it wasn't like this Rick gave even an iota of a fuck about him, but he still got the feeling he'd be looking for him anyway. To prove a point, if nothing else.

Pfft. That was all he was good for, he guessed: proving a point.

His chest tightened uncomfortably; he grimaced, clenching his teeth in anger. He hated this. He hated all of this.

He hated that life was so fucking _unfair._

Morty closed his eyes and lay down by the fire, curling up in a protective little ball. If he cried a little, he made sure to cover it up. From what, he wasn't sure.

Sleep didn't come easy.

* * *

 _"Have you discerned whether or not the human child has awoken yet? ?"_

Morty stirred, opening his sleep-stained eyes just a fraction. His joints were stiff, a byproduct of laying on the cold stone floor for so many hours. His muscles were tense as well, and he found it painful to move. He wasn't even sure if he could move regardless; he was still in that realm of half-consciousness, when you knew you where awake and yet everything still felt like a dream.

 _"How the squanch am I supposed to know? I guess I could squanch him with a stick..."_

Garbled voices float in the air around him, dim and distant. Morty can only make out the gist of what they're saying. A part of him, the part that values his safety, tells him to wake up and get the fuck out of there; this was a dangerous place, certainly not one that he wanted to be caught off guard in.

Another part of him just said fuck it. In his addled state, he found this the preferable answer. Quietly, he groaned and turned over, as if to announce his displeasure with whoever had chosen to interrupt his slumber.

 _"I believe that would be ill-advised. I can sense that the child is aware of our presence."_

Wait... Morty knew that voice...

 _"I will proceed to administer the most effective technique I know in fully awaking a human male."_

Birdperson?

Of course, it couldn't have been as simple as just nudging his shoulder. Just as Morty was about to speak up, a shift, merciless kick was planted right in his stomach. Morty's eyes shot open with the grace of a rampaging tiger, all the breath knocked from his lungs. Black spots danced in his vision.

He'd endured far worse, sure, but the sheer surprise of it amplified his pain a hundred times over.

Bile built up in the back of his throat, and Morty couldn't keep it down this time. Putrid fluids erupted from his mouth, splattering across the stones. He could hear something shuffling away in the background.

 _"I think we may've squanched the kid a little too hard..."_

 _"Birdperson would agree."_

Morty didn't get a chance to know what happened next. His thoughts began to fade, brain not wanting to deal with both the intense pain and sleep deprivation. He struggled to stay conscious.

Naturally, he failed.

 _ **[][][]**_

 **I had to cut those chapter short, as it had gotten far too long. The other part is in the works, no worries; it should be out by next weekend. Trust me when I tell you, though... this reunion? It doesn't have a happy ending. Think of this as the end of the prologue portion, beginning of the first arc in a larger story.**

 **Also, sorry if it seems to wane in quality here. I won't burden you with the details of my personal life, but lets just say it's been a pretty shitty couple of weeks. In any case, I thank you all for sticking with me anyway.**

 **Cheers,**

 **The Old Bastard**


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